Scorch
by Fabled-Reverie
Summary: In the height of summer, Canada decides to invite Russia over to his country for a little vacation between world meetings. The reason? Hey, Ivan likes warm weather, right? ..Right?


**Author's Note:** This is a piece done for a summer contest over at the resident RusCan fanclub on deviantArt, and I figured, why not post it here for more people to enjoy? Oh, dear.. is "cross posting" allowed? *is so paranoid* The world can never have enough Ivan/Matthew love, though. The general "theme" of the contest was Russia and Canada on vacation, so tadaa! I used my vast knowledge on the area in which I live. Other required elements of the story were: Ice Cream, Flag, and Physical Contact. I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Scorching heat was visible, and clearly evident in the dancing waves of rippling air distorting the trail stretched out in front of him. It was almost as if he could actually see all the moisture leaving the ground in a steady stream of evaporation. The sun was beating down on his neck relentlessly, leaving his skin feeling tight and dry from the heat. He felt like if he didn't keep constantly replenishing himself with water, he would dry up like a sponge that was left out in the heat for days. He did not want to end up on some sort of five-o'clock news show as the tourist who was dumb enough to let himself become dehydrated. No, he was _definitely_ smarter than that.

Still, the intensity of the heat was enough to make his standard choice of dressing nothing short of completely unbearable. He would have removed his coat, but he was almost too afraid that he would come out of the entire ordeal looking like one of those tomatoes that Antonio seemed to like so much. An all-over red burn would not look so flattering the next day, especially with his pale complexion. The guide repeatedly advised him to remove it, lest he suffer from heat exhaustion, but he was stubborn in his decision. He had removed his scarf quite some time ago, however, to relieve a bit of the heat, but it only served to give him a nice red burn on the back of his neck. As one of the more vocal members of the group so kindly pointed out, it perfectly matched the burn on his face. He would have retaliated with a swift "It will match the colour of stain on your clothes if you don't shut your mouth," but he felt that it would have been too much. After all, he was a non-human guest in presence of fragile-minded humans, so the psycho killer card might not have gone over so well with the citizens.

His hair was matted against his head by moisture, and he had long since stopped trying to keep his head dry, because, if he was to be perfectly honest, the sensation actually cooled him down mildly. However, the beads of sweat continued to roll down from his forehead in a neat little line down to the tip of his nose, where they seemed to evaporate even before they got the chance to hit the ground. Hell, even if they had made it to the ground, the rays of the sun most likely would have evaporated them in less than a millisecond. In fact, he was a little surprised that the heat was not powerful enough to suck the water right out of his bottle, underneath his nose and completely discrete from his knowledge.

Some distance beside him, off the designated path, he heard a faint rattling sound, a noise which he had heard more often in the last hour or so than he had ever heard in his life. He lifted his gaze from his feet to try and pinpoint exactly where the sound had come from. He found he had to bring a hand to shield his eyes from the intense rays of the sun, just so he could see what was a few feet in front of him. He had, unfortunately, not brought a pair of sunglasses with him, simply for the reason that he did not even own a pair. With a large hand shielding his vision, he could see the slight curling shape of a baby rattlesnake just a short distance off the trail. Before he could take a second glance at it though, the creature disappeared in a small uprising of dust into the dry brush further out.

Had Ivan not known that he were in Canada, he would have genuinely thought he were in Mexico, or at least, somewhere moderately famous for their hot and dry weather. Australia, maybe? The South-Western United States? Saudi Arabia even? _Anywhere_ but Canada.

"Did you just see that?" a particularly annoying voice asked, arms waving around wildly in the corner of his vision. "Dad! I just saw a baby rattursnake!" The boy placed his arms on his hips triumphantly, but not before tugging at the leg of his father's khaki shorts.

"Ra-ttle-snake, son." The father enunciated for effect. "Not ra-turr-snake." The boy just looked at him quizzically. "Rattle, like the sound his tail makes," he tried, whipping his hand in short rattling motions. The boy responded with a bright, and sickeningly naïve smile, before running off to tug at his mother's matching khaki shorts.

"Mommy! I just saw a rattursnake!"

For some reason, the little boy immensely reminded Ivan of a certain American he knew: insufferably annoying, overly enthusiastic, and just a little too innocent for his own good. To top it all off, the kid even had an American flag emblem stitched on his hat.

Ivan would need a drink before the day was over.

He peered some distance in front of the small group of people, trying to see if he could locate the starting point. The tour supposedly went in a giant loop around the desert, but he could not see a trace of the beginning side of the loop anywhere. Ivan checked the time on his watch just for good measure. It read four-thirty, and Matthew had promised the tour would be over by five.

He continued to walk at a fair pace, wondering why anyone in the world would want to come to a desert for a vacation. Sure, it was nice and hot, but willingly surrendering your body to the intense heat of the hottest part of the day? That was just asking to die of heatstroke. Seemingly, though, a fair amount of tourists in the group were enjoying themselves. They all seemed to be perfectly content, but he was sweating like a pig under the heavy fabric of his coat. He knew it had been a foolish idea to wear it, but did not stop himself either way.

What he really wanted was for the tour to be over, and that was when an idea struck him.

Maybe it was the heat getting to his head, but he decided the best idea would be to discretely empty his water bottle over top of one of the dryer desert plants, leaving him with naught but a drop. Smirking to himself, he re-capped the bottle and pushed through a small crowd of people to get to their guide, who was speaking rather enthusiastically about a kind of cactus one of the people in the group had seen. Before the guide could continue on any further though, he was stopped by Ivan's looming presence. Ivan watched as the man's adam's apple bobbed in hesitation, then the Russian spoke, accent spreading thick over his words.

"I am out of water." He shook his bottle so the man could hear the absence of liquid inside. The smaller man looked nervous for a moment, and the other tourists all turned back to their own conversations to avoid the tense situation before them.

"W-would you like some more?" the man gulped and stretched an arm back towards the zipper of his backpack. "I-I always carry extra in case people run out." He pulled a bottle out of the bag and offered it to the Russian. Ivan looked at the offering contemptuously. Condensation was covering the empty plastic at the top, signifying evaporation. He decided that its contents were most likely lukewarm at best, so he shook his head no.

"I would much rather prefer if you let me make my way back to the main building." Ivan loomed mildly closer to the smaller man to drive home his point. "I am _dying_ underneath this coat," he let the words drip from his tongue painfully slowly, and the moment he finished, a stray bead of sweat dripped off his nose and hit the guide right beside the mouth. The man started to stutter, immediately destroying any predispositions about who was in charge of the situation. He looked as though he were going to advise against Ivan's suggestion, which was not really a suggestion at all, as it was more like a demand than anything else, but one glare from the tall Russian was enough to make him think otherwise.

"O-okay then, sir. It's j-just that w-way," he started, pointing off in the direction the path stretched. "If y-you'll just f-follow the trai- Hey wait!"

Ivan was already several metres in the direction the man had pointed, and he had no intention of turning around.

"Y-you forgot your water!" the man yelled rather weakly, but Ivan just ignored his offer and continued to increase his pace towards the small gazebo in the distance.

* * *

Matthew glanced at his watch, then back out at the path through the clay-framed window, in search of the tour group on the horizon. It was already four-forty. Matthew frowned slightly. Usually, one could see the tour group approaching from about half-an-hour away. Then, by his calculations, the group was running at least ten minutes behind schedule, if not more.

There was no way that Ivan was going to like that, that is unless, on the off chance, he was actually enjoying himself.

Despite the fact that Matthew had been sure that the Russian man would enjoy himself going into the day, something deep inside told him that Ivan was not having a good time. From the moment Matthew had picked him up that afternoon from the hotel, when he saw the attire that the Russian had chosen for the day, he knew that the tour - one way or another - was going to end badly. There was no way that someone could survive almost one-and-a-half hours out in the scorching heat dressed like they were ready for fall in Moscow. Apparently, when Matthew had told him to "dress light" it had translated in the man's head as "dress for a mild autumn's day" and that was never a good thing.

Still, something had told the Canadian that letting Ivan experience his country's heat was a good idea. He had heard some time ago that the man was envious of tropical climates, and that many times he had tried to pester a pair of frightened Italy brothers into inviting him to their country for a period of time in the summer. So, why was it so far-fetched that Ivan would enjoy himself in the only desert that the nation of Canada had to offer? Matthew had figured that inviting his friend over for a little vacation with him between world meetings was a good idea. They had become good friends over the fact that both of their nations had generally cold climates, so what better way to surprise the man than showing him that Canada was hot as well? What better way than to show him that the climate of Canada was just as diverse as its people?

Another glance at his watch told him that nearly five minutes had passed, and a quick glance out the window offered no glimpse of the tour group in sight. Matthew sighed and settled his chin on the window frame, so he would not need to constantly peer over the ledge. The sun was still shining high in the sky, and the only disturbance of perpetual blue was the slight peppering of clouds just over a mountain in the far distance. It had to be nearing forty degrees outside, and Ivan was probably roasting in his coat.

Through the waves of rippling heat rising from the ground, Matthew could make out the shape of a large man walking towards the starting gazebo. At first, he completely missed the figure, as the tan shade of his coat almost made him disappear into the surrounding expanse of dirt and dry brush. However, as the figure steadily made his way closer to the main building, the identity of the man was undeniable, and Matthew had no idea how he could have mistaken him for desert sands.

Apparently, Ivan had left the tour group a little early in favour of returning to the main building. A tension built up in the Canadian's chest as he realized the connotations behind that piece of information. He immediately rose his seat and jogged to the door. Disregarding the warnings of the receptionist, he stepped out into the heat of the mid-July day and towards the approaching Russian man. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, a fresh beading of sweat worked up on his forehead.

Even Matthew had a hard time keeping the heat from getting to him, and he was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, so Ivan must have been dying. One quick glance affirmed that belief, as he could see that the man's hair was damp with sweat, and he had a rather nasty sunburn stretching across his face. Despite his less-than-enthused appearance, Matthew thought he might as well venture an ask.

"So Ivan, how was it?" he asked hopefully. _Hopefully the tour had not been too bad._

"Oh, Matvey!" the older man smiled, clutching his signature scarf in hand. "I didn't see you there. Have you been waiting long? The tour is not even supposed to be over yet." He tilted his head slightly, hiding dangerous feelings with an innocent gesture. He didn't even attempt to answer the Canadian's question.

"I know, but I thought I should come early just in case." Matthew looked down at his hands for a moment, chest tightening in slight anxiety. "I guess I was right," he laughed awkwardly. "Why are you here before the rest of the group, though?"

"Ah," Ivan sighed, reaching into a pocket of his jacket and retrieving his empty water bottle. "I was out of water." He flipped it over and shook it for effect, proving that it was indeed empty.

"Oh," he sighed, sounding more relieved than he wanted to let on, "I thought it was maybe something else." Ivan smiled again, assuring Matthew's feelings enough for him to smile back and then look off into the distance. The Russian dropped his head to the empty bottle dangling from his fingertips.

Ivan would rather lie and say he had a good time than hurt the poor boy's feelings by telling the truth. Honestly, Matthew had enough emotional issues with his so-called family forgetting who he was all the time. He didn't need one of his friends telling him that he had had a crummy time, when obviously the boy went to great lengths to plan it. Besides, Ivan liked seeing Matthew's smile, _even if_ it was present on his face under false pretenses. He was willing to forget those formalities just to see him happy.

"Let's go, Matvey. This heat is killing me." Ivan kept his voice bright enough to mask any frustration from seeping out, and wiped at his forehead with a large hand. The heat really was starting to get to his head. Matthew gave a curt nod, then started towards his car, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket as he went.

"So, where do you want to go?"

Ivan smirked at the opportunity.

"Surprise me."

* * *

The car rolled to a stop at a small ice cream parlour far out of town. Ivan frowned at the sudden lack of moving air rushing past his face, as he had been rather enjoying the breeze. His hair had been dried by the motion, and it served to cool him off immensely. He still refused to remove his coat, for reasons even he no longer remembered. Despite all that, he still found himself to be pleasantly surprised by the location at which Matthew had decided to stop. For an ice cream parlour on a hot summer's day, it was fairly deserted.

"The advantages of knowing your way around town, eh?" Matthew gave Ivan a nudge with his elbow which reminded him he actually had to get out of the car if he wanted any ice cream. He took a moment to absorb his surroundings before following the eager Canadian into the shop, which, to his relief, was delightfully air-conditioned. It smelled of stale ice and, overwhelmingly and obviously, various flavours and assortments of ice cream. Luckily for them, there was only one person waiting in line, and a free booth off in the corner near a window.

"You should go save that table over there," Matthew pointed at the empty booth excitedly. "What do you want, so I can order for you." The Russian turned to him earnestly, leaning closer to his ear so he would be able to whisper and still be heard.

"Would they happen to have anything with vodka in it?" The inflection with which Ivan said that made it seem like he was joking, but beneath the surface was a bit of a serious curiousness. Matthew looked at him like he was insane for a moment, then laughed slightly.

"I don't think so. All the flavours are listed on the freezers," the Canadian offered. Ivan tipped his head at the colourful signs decorating the glass, describing all sorts of flavours like "Island Swirl", "Fudge Chunky Ripple" and "Low-fat Strawberry Sherbet." There were about four freezers lined up in a row that stretched almost to the far wall, all donned with similar signs and stickers. Overwhelmed with choices, Ivan shook his head.

"Whatever you think I would like."

"All right," Matthew nodded confidently.

It had been long since the time when the Canadian was nervous around Ivan. When they had first started becoming friends, after the formation of the Arctic Council in 1996, he had been quite shy and quiet around the group. However, having to be the head of the council for two years allowed him to open up to all the members, and he had finally stopped the constant stutter and invisibility that still plagued him at regular world meetings. Maybe it was the fact that the two of them regularly played hockey games against each other as well, (and it was easy to see that Matthew was anything but meek on the ice) but either way, Matthew never seemed to stutter around the Russian anymore.

Ivan settled into the booth and slid towards the window, waiting for the other man to return with their ice cream. He watched as Matthew did exactly what he had expected: he ordered some variation of Maple ice cream. After that, the boy began pointing at one of the freezers excitedly, and the worker behind the counter scooped out a sort of plain-looking white ice cream, most likely vanilla. Ivan felt disappointed at the Canadian's choice for him for a moment, but then a thought struck him. If the flavour he had chosen for Ivan was vanilla, why did he seem to be so excited about it? Politely, Matthew juggled with what seemed to be money and payed for the two cones, then made his way over to the corner booth with a bright smile on his face.

"Here you go!" He handed Ivan a cone with a brownish scoop of ice cream perched on it, then slid into the seat directly across from him. The Russian looked at it for a moment, sufficiently confused, and took a small whiff of the smell.

"Matvey, I think you are mistaken. This is your Maple ice cream." He tried holding it back for the man to take, but Matthew just smiled at him.

"No, that's for you," he assured. "Now, this," he gestured to the cone in his hand, smile still plastered on his face, "this is for me." He licked the cone rather over-dramatically, as if asserting his ownership of the ice cream.

"If you're sure, then." Still skeptical, Ivan took a tentative lick of the Maple-flavoured ice cream.

The taste was just light enough to make you want more, but not too sweet that it would drive you away after half the cone. Ivan immediately saw, or rather, tasted, exactly why the entire nation of Canada was so enamoured with the flavour. To put things simply, it was delicious. Matthew laughed at his reaction.

"I take that as a sign you like it then?"

Ivan did not dignify Matthew's little dig at him with a response, instead choosing to take another taste of the stereotypically Canadian flavour. A one-sided smile found its way onto Ivan's lips as Matthew pouted slightly at his silence. Apparently, the boy had been enjoying the small talk. Ivan remembered the plain-looking ice cream he had seen the worker scooping for Matthew.

"So, if you gave me the Maple, then what did you get for yourself?"

Matthew fidgeted with his watch before replying.

"Uhm, it's called White Russian ice cream," he said sheepishly. Ivan raised his eyebrows in interest, letting Matthew get the full effect of attention from his violet eyes. "I figured since you're eating my flavour, that I should try yours."

Ivan furrowed his brow in mild confusion. "What makes it **my** flavour, aside from the name?" Matthew looked out the window to avoid being stared at.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it has, uh, vodka in it," he said rather quickly. Then, changing the subject, he added, "they asked me if I was nineteen, do I look younger than nineteen to you?"

Ivan's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in determination. He wanted that ice cream. "You're going to give me a taste of that," he leaned closer to the smaller man across the table, attempting to will the ice cream towards his mouth. "Da, Matvey?"

Matthew looked thoughtful for a moment, then, with a devious smile, shoved the cone in the general direction of Ivan's mouth.

"Da."

Ivan had to admit that, for having ice cream smeared all over his face, it still tasted pretty good, and yes, there definitely was a little bit of vodka in it. As he continued to wipe the ice cream off with his finger, then lick it off from there, Matthew was beside him practically busting a gut laughing. Ivan glanced down at the slowly melting cone of Maple ice cream still perched in his other hand. Taking the boy's moment of vulnerability by storm, he shoved it in Matthew mouth as he laughed. He took it just about as well as Ivan had, if not better, because despite the golden cream dripping from his face, he was still laughing.

"I guess I should have expected that, eh?" he asked, attempting to wipe his face clean. Ivan just smiled mischievously.

"What do you think?"

They stayed there for quite some time, not only because they both still wanted to eat at least a bit of ice cream without having to lick it off their face, but because they had to clean up the mess they had made in the first place. When the manager came out and saw the melting puddles of golden brown and white seeping across the table, Matthew apologized profusely and promised they would clean it. So, they did, and all the while they both tried to get the last sticky remnants of ice cream off their own faces.

After having successfully cleaned up the mess they had made, and wiping down their faces in the small bathroom one at a time, they both ordered another cone. It was the same as it had been the first time; Matthew got White Russian, and Ivan, surprisingly, got Maple. After all, they had both spent nearly half-an-hour trying to get their respective flavours off their faces, and Ivan barely had a chance to savour the Maple before it got shoved in Matthew's face.

He found that he quite liked Maple.

* * *

The car ride back to town was marked by several attempts by Ivan to keep his coat from being stained by dripping ice cream. He had no idea how Matthew managed to drive and eat so successfully at the same time, while he, the passenger was struggling to eat the cone before he spilled on himself. The drive itself was about twenty minutes, plenty of time to finish up, but the heat was getting to him. It almost felt hotter than it had earlier in the afternoon, and even though he had the window rolled all he way down, the breeze was hot, and not nearly as refreshing as it had been before.

He was further discouraged when the velocity of wind continued to slow, leaving the effect rather lackluster. Matthew was slowing down because he was approaching the town. Unannounced, the Canadian took a sharp corner towards the beach, causing Ivan to loose his coordination and drop what was left of his ice cream all over himself.

"Oh, shoot," Matthew exclaimed, trying to keep his eyes on the road but inspect the damage done at the same time. "Ivan I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you spill that." He pulled the car to a gentle stop in a parking space and turned off the vehicle with a low hum.

"It's fine, just wasn't expecting a sharp corner like that," Ivan grumbled into the fabric at the top of his coat as he dabbed at the setting stain with a napkin grabbed from the glove box. It was no use. The stain was going to set and there was nothing that Ivan could do about it.

"Maybe this is the universe's way of telling you to finally take off the jacket," Matthew laughed and Ivan eyed him sarcastically. He looked out the open window beside him to the sky above. The sun was reaching further towards the crest of the mountains in the distance, so he figured that if he did as the Canadian suggested, he would most likely not get a sunburn.

Ivan undid the buttons on his coat and shrugged it off, minding to keep the stain from brushing the seat of Matthew's car. As soon as he did so, he felt the heavy weight of an entire day's worth of sweating and heat exhaustion being lifted from his shoulders in one simple motion. A small gust of wind drifted in from the open window beside him and rustled the tips of his hair, crawling down the neck of his t-shirt and carrying a minute amount of sweat away with it.

Matthew was blushing very noticeably, so he decided it would be best to grab his towel out of trunk and begin to make his way down to the beach. A little confused at his sudden departure, Ivan quickly followed, soiled coat still in hand.

"Matvey, wait!" The boy did not turn back, for fear that the Russian would see his profuse blush.

"H-hurry or we'll lose the best spot!"

One glance around told Ivan that the beach was indeed fairly crowded, and it seemed as though the Canadian had the perfect spot picked out in his mind for them to enjoy the remainder of the day. Not wanting to disappoint Matthew, he hurried along as quickly as his legs could carry him, though the fact that his feet repeatedly sunk into the heated sand was more of a hindrance than a helper. He had to admit, the scorching heat of the day certainly was a change from the cloud cover and hockey rinks that they were used to meeting each other at. The change of venue was almost enough to have him look at the Canadian in a different way. Of course, shed of their many layers of either winter clothes or hockey gear, they were both in much less than they were used to seeing of each other. Less fabric to come between them.

Matthew settled on a patch of sand closely shaded by a large tree, just at the edge of the beach. Ivan glanced around, then dropped his coat a short distance from the Canadian's towel, disregarding the amount of sand he would later have to shake from it.

"Why did you take off so fast?" He sat down on top of his coat and relaxed his body in the shade. Matthew was silent for a moment, but Ivan did not open his eyes to watch him.

"It was, uh, just really hot in that car," Matthew nodded, more to himself than anyone else. "Plus, I saw this spot and had to get to it before anyone else did, you know?" He laughed an awkward laugh again, which made Ivan frown slightly. The Canadian was not acting like his usual self, and that troubled him.

"What is wrong?" Ivan ventured to question him. "You seem a little off today." The other man shook his head immediately, but unconvincingly.

"Oh, it's n-nothing," he said quietly. It was not unlike Matthew to tell a little white lie to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. At the end of the day, he just wanted everything to go smoothly and everyone to be friends. Ivan knew this was a lie, however, because the stutter he had gone so long without hearing from the boy had clearly resurfaced. "I was j-just.. a little s-stressed out from thinking about work, t-that's all."

Ivan decided to not question him any further, knowing that Matthew would tell him in due time. Instead, they enjoyed the silence of each other's company for a period of time. Considering the early afternoon he had, the rest of his day seemed to be turning out rather nicely. At one point or another, they both took to burying their feet in the warm sand and taking turns cooling them off in the water from the incoming tide. Out of the direct sunlight, the heat of the day actually felt kind of nice. He barely even noticed the burn covering his face any longer, and when the sun started to set, he found himself embellished in deep conversation with his fellow arctic nation.

The beach had only a few other groups of people still straggling, and all were out of earshot, so they both felt secure enough to discuss their issues as nations. It had been quite a long time since Ivan had such an in-depth conversation with one of his fellow national representatives, and he found himself pleased to know that Matthew was on the other end of the conversation. Unlike certain nations he knew, Canada's representative was kind and polite, and much like his citizens, did not want to offend anyone. He was also what some might call "open-minded" which was always a plus for Ivan when it came to discussing the more touchy conversation topics that might be brought up. In other words, Matthew was very easy to talk to.

That may have been the reason why they both found themselves yawning while trying to carry on speaking in the faint light of the rising moon.

Somehow, they had both lost track of the time, and the beach had been long since deserted. The only sound was the soft lull of incoming waves as they swept across the beach, and the two of them seemed to be the only living things left there. The scorching hot day had turned into a warm night, but there was a dryness in the air that left them without perspiration. Matthew was talking on the topic of places in the world which he would like to see, places he had not seen already, and Ivan laid back and let the lingering warmth of the sand cradle his head.

"Why would you want to be anywhere else but here? It is gorgeous," Ivan confessed, letting true conviction at last be heard in his voice. Even though his eyes were closed, he could almost _hear_ the smile spread on his companion's face.

"Oh, I-I'm glad you like it. I was afraid you were having a horrible time," Matthew said nervously, fidgeting with the clasp on his watch again. "But, it really is pretty here. I mean, look," he started, settling himself near enough to Ivan to feel the heat coming off of his body, "If you lay down," he yawned, breaking up his sentence slightly, "sometimes you can see both the stars and the tops of the mountains at the same time."

Ivan opened his eyes to fight off a wave of incoming fatigue and saw that the Canadian was telling the truth. Just on the perimeter of his vision, Ivan could indeed see the shadowed tops of the surrounding mountains. The blanket of stars covering the expanse of the sky left an extra shimmering effect on the landscape that the moon alone could not provide. For a long moment, Ivan merely soaked in the sight, enjoying himself to be experiencing such a beautiful view in the comfort of the warm sand and in the company of a close friend. A weight settled on the side of his chest, which he correctly assumed to be Matthew's head.

Ivan found that he rather liked visiting Canada in the summer, and not just the country, so he decided that he would have to come back more often.

"Canada really is beautiful, Matvey. I hope you know that."

He waited a moment for a response, but quickly found that no reply would come. The Russian let a true smile show itself on his face, because his little Canadian friend had fallen fast asleep on the cushioning of his chest. Without disturbing him, Ivan pulled his arm from above his head in the sand, and let it curl around the width of Matthew's shoulders. The Russian resolved that it was necessary he come back the following summer, if only for a taste of Maple ice cream and a glimpse Matthew's heart-warming smile.

"Canada is beautiful," he murmured, no longer attempting to fight off the waves of incoming sleep. "_Matvey_ is beautiful."


End file.
